The Isolation of Tifa Lockhart
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: Tifa, Reno, a curse within a necklace. And things were going to get messy indeed. Requested by The Sacred and Profane.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** FFVII and its characters are property of Square Enix.

* * *

The necklace shone bright and cool in her palm. Black ornate jade inscribed with a silver serpent. Not really her style but she hadn't expected Yuffie to know better. The little ninja obviously had some issues with turning down bargains at the mall, although Tifa did wonder how the girl could afford to be so cheap considering the worth of Wutai's 'hidden treasures'. The silver necklace with its intricate pendant was surprisingly _very _out-of-taste with Yuffie's signature scrappy personal style.

But then again, it wasn't as if Reno bothered buying her nice things.

Despite the uneasy truce they'd drawn up years ago with the Turks, no one had been more surprised than she had been when she'd accepted the lanky redhead's offer of dinner followed by a night of dancing at the newly opened nightclub, Zen. Barret's tone had sounded anxious over the phone as he'd asked her if this was an attempt to move on from that disastrous affair with Cloud. Even stoic Vincent Valentine had (reportedly) raised an eyebrow at the news. "Post traumatic stress disorder?" Reeve had offered gently, making sure that he wasn't within striking distance.

To each and every question, she'd offered the same answer.

No, she wasn't as stressed as they thought her to be. No, she wasn't that desperate and her biological clock wasn't ticking _that _loud in her ears. After all, she had Marlene and Denzel, didn't she? No, she wasn't in love and she was sure that Reno wasn't either.

It was all in fun. The last time she'd set her heart loose, it had come back in a mangled heap of tear-soaked cells. She was tired of taking things seriously so a bit of jesting definitely wouldn't hurt. At the most, she'd get to have some fun without any strings attached. At the least, it wouldn't last longer than a couple of days. Since they'd already passed the month-long mark, it was safe for her to assume that things would halt in a year or so.

Reno wasn't the bad guy, Shinra was. Or Shinra _had _been the bad guy. It was all history anyway. The heroes had eventually triumphed. She should have seen that coming. She should have known that most things in life were transient. Including those fragile threads of love, friendship and honesty.

Contrary to popular belief, she and Cloud had parted amicably. A truce of their own with the rules laid out beneath their own roof. Both would quit trying on the other, neither would interfere with the other's healing. She was no longer the girl who played piano and chased butterflies in the sun. She was a woman now, jaded and ordinary. And Cloud was not her knight in shining armor. He was a man, a broken man seeking nothing but a peace of his own.

Reno… Reno was Reno. Rude, garish, loose-tongued Reno who'd once taken the opportunity to slide his hand up her skirt during a fight set in her Avalanche days. If not for Barret's roar of outrage, she would never have quite recovered from the shock to send the Turk almost flying off the Sector 7 Support Pillar. Unlike his taciturn partner Rude, Reno had no qualms over placing pleasure before business. Inviting the very woman he'd fought tooth and nail with out to dinner hadn't been too out-of-character for him. What had bothered her most was that she hadn't given this a second thought before agreeing.

There were still times like these where she doubted herself. It had been an infuriatingly tough habit to break and had taken several ellipsis-filled silences between her and Cloud as well as falling into the Lifestream to finally lay that to rest. However, there were cracks in the seal she'd placed on her fears. Time after time, they'd managed to leak through the protective covering and she'd been exposed. Again and again, she stuffed them back in, refusing to admit defeat.

Self-doubt was what Aerith had lacked. No one could help their attraction to those deep enigmatic green eyes which didn't need Mako infusion to shine through the dark. But Aerith had still kept the secret to himself. She hadn't given herself as completely as her admirers had to her. Tifa's flaw was Aerith's trump card. Tifa had rarely, if ever, given an inkling as to how much she feared for the lives at stake. So had Aerith. But the mystery had lain behind those translucent emerald-green eyes while Tifa's remained darkened from experience. Aerith was Cloud's Sun, Tifa was his Moon. The two of them had had to settle for revolving around the other until the day came when the Sun had to set for eternity.

Tifa was still the Moon. Resigned to endlessly drift in orbit around the others.

Cloud was a comet, streaking far and high above her reach.

Reno was…

… Reno was…

It wouldn't be fair to compare Reno to a heavenly body. He was so painfully human that it would be sacrilege to place him amongst gods like them. He drank like a fish, smoked when he 'really felt like shit', left his shirt untucked beneath his suit jacket with only a few buttons attached in order and he enjoyed every bit of the experience. The man was a stain on the pristine white of perfection and he positively reveled in the fact. Despite her ill-concealed pity, he continued with his raucous displays of bawdy wit and pomp. Never, never would he earn the respect of a god.

She couldn't help worry for him.

"_Don't strain yourself, babe. Who needs Heaven up there when you can have it right here?" _

A clever pun on the name of her bar, she'd had to admit to him. But she still believed in Heaven or some place you had to go when the Planet claimed you. What was life worth living for when she deserved a reward for her troubles? But that would have been selfish of her to expect that so she'd stopped there.

"_Tifa, Tifa, Tifa… when will you ever learn?"_

Learn what, Reno?

The phone rang, disrupting her careful train of thought. As she trudged upstairs towards the ringing, she snuck a peek at Denzel and Marlene in the kitchen. Boredom had resulted in both of them pestering her for entertainment and because she'd felt mischievous, she'd assigned them to the job of wiping clean the shot-glasses and mugs, much to their dismay. After making sure that they were still hard at work, Tifa attended to the incessant phone.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Teef."

"Reno, I've told you so many times not – "

" – to call Spikey's delivery hotline. Yeah, I remember. At least look on the bright side. I'm making sure that you get plenty of exercise climbing up those stairs. Wouldn't want you to lose that figure of yours."

"Very deep, Reno. I'm impressed."

"Ooh, sarcasm now?" he chuckled. "Looks like Spikey's rubbin' off on ya. You know, you'd look hot straddling that motorbike of his."

"I can imagine." Inwardly, Tifa grimaced. She wasn't too fond of bikes. More than one reckless driver had almost run her down on Edge's overcrowded side-streets.

"So, whatcha up to today?"

"Nothing much, just the usual. Cloud's away in Costa del Sol."

"Costa, eh? Good for him. The guy needs some color in him."

She grinned slyly into the receiver. "And you don't?"

"Me? I'd probably burn like wood out there. I'm a pure city slicker through and through."

She'd often wondered about Reno's past. All he'd let on was that he was born in Midgar and had lived there for most of his life. From the rough, raw technique in his fighting, she guessed that he must have learned it from the slums. She remembered Denzel telling Cloud about the fights he'd seen there before joining them. Hordes of kids would gather round to watch two opponents barely older than themselves rush at each other with sticks, pipes, sharpened pieces of scrap metal or anything else they could scrape together. The outcomes were usually messy blood-drenched affairs. The dried brown stains on the cement ground marked those sacred territories won by sheer brutality.

Perhaps much of that roughness had dissipated from Reno's body throughout the years. Except when that fire was ignited in his eyes during a battle, he was content to lounge through the day with no need for the street-honed hunger he must have possessed as a boy.

"What's he doing out in Costa anyway? Did he up and leave you guys so that he could have a nice lil' vacation all by himself? Tsk, tsk."

"For your information, he's delivering a puppy."

"Wha – " A sharp rap made him swear loudly. "Ow, didn't see that step there. You say Strife's delivering a puppy? As in like… you know, helping _deliver _a puppy?"

"No, not _that _way." She sighed with a fond air. "The puppy was a birthday gift from this old businessman to his grand-nephew. He contacted Cloud so that he could take it to him by the new highway."

"So why courier? The guy too stingy to pay for regular delivery?"

"I suppose. I mean, that's how people normally get rich. They avoid spending as much as they can."

"Tell me about it. Hey, you wanna go out tonight?"

"Is that why you called this line? Hoping that I wouldn't answer so that you could record a message for Cloud to hear when he got back?"

"Aw, you know me all too well, sweetheart."

"Don't I?" This wasn't a statement but not exactly a question either. Of course she'd come to understand his odd little quirks and habits over the past month they'd been dating and before that, while they were just casual acquaintances at the bar. Not to enough to really get to know the real Reno though. Yeah, she knew he liked his Wild Turkey straight from the bottle. Why? She hadn't cared to ask. Their relationship was best kept at that: a relationship. Comprising two people who knew and enjoyed each other's company on occasion. No strings attached, no complications, no worries.

"So… you comin' or not?"

She didn't even have to think before asking. As usual. "No, sorry. Cloud's away, so that means no one to watch over the kids."

"Too bad then, I guess."

"Mm-hm."

Figures. He didn't even bother to ask if he could come over instead. _"Ya know, spend the night with you guys instead and all that crap."_

"Anything else you've been doing without me around?"

"Shouldn't you be getting back to work?"

"I got all the time in the world. Well, at least until the Boss gets back," She heard the familiar squeak of an office chair reclining. "Today's paperwork day. Got nothing much to write really, just agree with whatever I was supposed to have done. So what else have you been up to?"

"Yuffie dropped in."

"Materia girl? How's she faring anyway? Heard Wutai's pretty much on the upswing these days."

"It is. Tourism's booming now that it's the cherry blossom season."

"And the brat _still _can't keep herself glued to that spot? So much for respecting outdated traditions."

Although she knew Reno and Yuffie had never got along thanks to the former's affiliation with Shinra, she could tell that he admired the girl's resistance to customs and traditional aspects of her country. After all, he embodied rebellion, even under Shinra command. From the tips of his red hair to his long sinewy limbs. He was out of place, completely out of proportion in the rigid uniform of a Turk.

"Yup, gotta love Yuffie."

"You wish."

"We hit the new mall downtown."

"That eyesore?" He always _had _to downplay whatever she announced. "Heard there's nothing there but a couple of hawkers selling cheap knock-offs."

"Well, they are cheap but I'm not sure about the knock-off part. Yuffie got me a necklace." She held it up to the light, admiring how the silver gleamed with an eerie glow. "For 300 gil, I'd call it a bargain."

"Suit yourself, babe. I don't have much of an eye for that stuff. Hey, what say you wear it on our next date?"

"Probably. If I can find an outfit that goes with it."

"You women and your accesso… woah!" A ruffling of papers in the background interrupted their conversation. "Hey, Teefs? I'm sorry but I gotta rush. Literally. Tseng has entered the building."

"Okay, see ya later."

A crash followed by Marlene's "Uh-oh!" came about as soon as she placed the phone back on its base. It looked like she'd have to rush too before they attempted to clean up the mess themselves. The last time this happened, Denzel had swept with the broom so hurriedly that pieces of glass had flown through the air and embedded themselves in the nearby couches.

But first…

She fixed the necklace around her neck and clasped it into place.

Might as well break it in before the Big Date.

The metal felt cold against her skin. Must be her sensitivity again.

* * *

**That's it for Chapter One. Sorry if you found it too boring. The next one should be better although updating is still slow. Hope you liked it anyway.**


	2. Chapter 2

When Tifa reached the living-room downstairs, Denzel had already whipped out the broom and was poised to start brushing at the sound of her footsteps. She smiled gently at him.

"It's okay. I'll take it from here."

"We're sorry." Marlene pitched in, clutching a damp dishcloth.

"Nah, it's only a mug. We'll get some more tomorrow when we go out shopping."

Still smiling, Tifa pried the broom from Denzel's grasp and began to use the tips of the brushes to nudge the tiny glass shards into one corner. They glinted briefly in the dim morning light revealing jagged shapes. To think, she mused, that this had only been a whole mug a mere few seconds ago. Such was the fragility of existence. Nanaki must really be rubbing off on her for her to be so philosophical today.

"Denzel, could you go get the dust-pan?"

Without a word, the boy scurried off to the storeroom closet with Marlene close at his heels. As soon as they were gone, Tifa let the smile slip from her face. Her own brown eyes stared at her blankly from their reflection in the shattered pieces. For a second, she could have sworn that she'd seen a glimmer in them…

"Ah!"

The spot of blood bloomed quickly on her thumb. In no time at all, a scarlet blob of liquid had begun its ascent down the digit, leaving behind a fresh wet trail. Pain was minimal, almost nothing to cry about. She pressed her thumb against her thumb, tasting the slightly salty tang of the blood seeping in. It was an achingly familiar flavor. She hadn't felt it in months. Not since the fight with the silver-haired Loz at the Church in the slums…

Blood… this was the price they had paid for peace.

Jessie, Biggs, Wedge, Zack, Aerith… five more candles for her to light as she paid homage to the dead.

Snatching a wad of tissues from a box on a nearby coffee table, she attempted to blot her open wound. Denzel was taking unusually long to fetch the dust-pan. Couldn't he find it? Just as she was about to go search for him, she caught sight of herself in the window.

Tifa blinked. And she still couldn't believe it.

She looked down and examined herself for changes. No, she was still the same, long limbs and longer hair. Unlike the girl staring back at her from the glass. Tifa stared straight into the eyes of the little girl she had once been, not daring to breathe. The girl in the window returned the look, eye for eye, uncharacteristically solemn in the outdoor sunshine. Shorter hair, rounder limbs, rosier cheeks, but somehow no more innocent that she had once been.

Tifa trembled.

Her reflection was still. Like a statue.

"Who are you?"

The little girl remained stoic, refusing to speak. Her eyes betrayed nothing.

"Who are you? What are you?"

A flat white palm pressed itself against the surface in desperation. Tifa ignored the blood streaming from the cut as she silently pleaded for an answer. The girl standing before her finally obliged with her own hand mirroring the one already on the glass. This hand was much softer than the work-worn one that Tifa offered as a peace offering. It was smaller with a much smoother palm. She'd never had to use her hands much when she was five. Except… picking flowers, playing piano… stroking a kitten… just the little things. If she'd known then that these very same hands would be used for acts like…

She gulped down the guilt building up in her throat. She was dreaming, of course. This _had _to be dream. How else would she be able to see her childish self in her reflection once more?

_Wake up._

She was even wearing the same green dress she used to like… the one with the roses around the collar…

_Tifa, please wake up._

In spite of herself, she stretched her arm out, eager for more contact. She had long been severed from her innocence. Here it literally stood before her, intact as on the day she was born. The link to a heart, untouched by the stain of war, was… beyond tempting. She willed herself through the glass, imprinting herself on her younger image. That dress had been her favorite because her mother had made it especially for her. In time, she'd almost forgotten the way her smile used to light up her face.

* * *

Things seemed bigger when she had been a child. The table was like a mountain and her father a giant. She remembered curling up to sleep on the rug in the kitchen as her mother hummed old folk songs, lulling her to sweet dreams.

The girl still stared back at her. But something seemed… it didn't seem right. The solemn eyes that stared in return were _hers_. Reflected in them was _her _confusion, _her _fear. It was _her_, as she had once been before. Before the blood of others and the agony of loss had rendered them red. But… it was her compacted into a child's body. Complete with the softest lily-white hands and arms.

A hand holding a brush immediately scattered those thoughts aside.

Familiar hands. Pale white and as soft as hers…

"Such lovely hair. Would you like to grow it longer?"

Tifa remained silent, hardly daring to breathe too loud for fear of ruining the magic. She was far too stunned to cry. The dark-haired woman behind her didn't appear to notice the tears ebbing at the corners of her eyelids.

"What about it, Tifa? Would you like to have longer hair?"

She had no idea what possessed her to answer.

"Yes, Mama."

Her mother looked just like she did in the photographs. Long sandy brown hair in a plait and the same dark brown eyes as her daughter's. Daddy had once told her she'd had her mother's eyes. That had been after the funeral, the first time she'd ever seen him cry.

"You'd have to tie it back then when you're out playing. Can't have it get in your eyes…"

"Like yours?"

The woman paused for a moment and then broke out into a smile. "Why, yes. Perhaps you'd like a braid like mine? I could teach you how to do it by yourself."

"… Okay."

"What's wrong, dear? You seem so sad all of a sudden."

"I missed you."

For the first time in her life, Tifa Lockhart felt how much it hurt to say those three words. It was like admitting weakness, exposing the holes in your armor. "I missed you, Mama. Where've you been all this time?"

"I haven't gone anywhere." She replied, startled. "I've been here. Right here with you all along."

"Really?"

"Of course, darling." A giggle rippled through her bosom making it heave slightly. "I've been here, brushing your hair. Did you fall asleep whilst I was doing so?"

"… I don't know."

A lock of her hair was tucked behind her ear. A single breath warmed it. "Perhaps you fell asleep then."

_Perhaps this was all a dream._

"Perhaps then…"

Mama picked up from where she'd left off.

"You fell asleep… and I've been here all this time… always…"

* * *

"Tifa?"

Denzel held up the dull blue dust-pan. "Found it!"

His concern grew as he followed the red trail left by her thumb against the glass. As used as he'd grown to having Cloud zone out during the middle of a chore, it was rare for him to find Tifa in such a stupor. Today may turn out to be one of those days. Just like she could be the most attentive and cheerful of their lot, Tifa was also prone to her own fits of brooding. Unlike Cloud though, it wasn't as easy to discern what was troubling her so.

"You okay?"

"Hm." she replied, still locked in the same position.

"You're bleeding."

That seemed to jolt her down to reality. Limbs moving in quick bursts of spastic energy, she dabbed so hard at the blood on the window that he could _hear _it vibrate from the harsh contact. He even heard her swear under her breath. Something was up.

"Is everything okay?" he ventured.

"No, I mean, yes. Yes, I'm fine."

He felt the strain in her voice, leading him to believe that she was hiding from him again. Tifa may not have realized it but Denzel was definitely more aware of more than he let on. Premature independence had been his best teacher.

"Were you thinking about something? Cloud?"

"No, not Cloud."

"Reno?"

"No, no one."

'No one' that he knew of anyway. Before he could press deeper, she'd seized the pan from his hands and had already headed back to the living-room. When he caught up, she'd managed to reinforce her neutral expression in its place.

Tifa must not have realized that he worried about her too. He would be twelve in December, on the brink of puberty already. Years spent scavenging rubble for scraps did wonders for one's self-awareness. He'd already learnt that the hard way that the older you got, the more masks you had to wear. It wasn't that smiles would cease. It was just that they ceased to genuine. Tifa smiled often but rarely in sincerity. Good-hearted woman she may be, but far from an honest one.

"Is Cloud coming back soon?"

"Probably in a couple of days. Excuse me – " He moved quickly to avoid the incoming broom. "Missing him already, Denzel?"

"Not a _lot_."

She apparently found his answer amusing judging by the tiny smile that tugged at her mouth. "You men aren't too fond of expressing certain things, you know."

"Well, yeah, that's what we do."

"I couldn't agree more."

"You're kinda the same too. You almost never tell me what's on your mind."

She looked up and studied him intently. He was growing up. "Good call."

"So… why do _you _do that?"

"Well… sometimes, I can't bring myself to say certain things because… they might not be true after all."

"What kind of things?"

"Like right now. I wish I _could _tell you about what I just remembered but… what if I'm wrong?"

"Depends on what you remembered."

"You wouldn't know. You weren't a part of _this _memory."

Now she was beginning to really worry him. "Tifa, are you losing your memory?"

She sighed. "No… quite the opposite, in fact."

"Does it have anything to do with _that_?" He pointed to her thumb. The spilt blood was already drying on the wad of tissues.

"I wish." Tifa finished collecting the remaining shards into the pan. She paused momentarily to inhale deeply before resuming. "Denzel, I know this may seem painfully personal so you don't have to answer me. Do you ever… think of your mother?"

He was taken aback. Truthfully speaking, not in recent days. From the moment that the Sector 7 pillar had come crashing down, he'd always clung to the hope that someday, _somehow_, he'd see his parents alive again. With each day which passed by afterwards, a small bit of that hope gave out. The day he'd met Ruvie in Sector 5, he'd already begun to forget what their voices sounded like. Of course he missed them and he was sure that was one thing that he'd never stop doing. But in spite of himself, he'd moved on. Tifa, Cloud and Marlene had made sure of it.

"Honestly, not a lot since the day Cloud found me."

"But you won't ever forget them, right?" she insisted hopefully.

"No, that'll never happen."

"I never forgot my parents either. Or even my other friends. Aerith, Jesse, Biggs, Wedge…" The pan slipped from her grasp and the glass pieces scattered all over the floor once more. "I think about them often, it just comes naturally. I remember all the good times we shared, all those silly jokes and then how they…"

He immediately had his hand on her shoulder as the trembling became too much to contain.

"Tifa, I don't think you're okay."

She didn't reply. Her breath was unnaturally warm against his skin compared to how icy cool her necklace felt. "Hey, why don't you lie down for a while? I'll go get you some water and a pill."

"… Thank you, Denzel."

And she patted his head. Almost like he was her own little boy.

He swallowed to keep his composure intact.

A second later, when she collapsed to the floor, he regretted not being more open with her.


	3. Chapter 3

Reno winced.

It had to do with a number of things. One, Tifa played the distant act to perfection. Two, Tseng had caught him goofing off on duty, chatting on the main office phone nonetheless. Three, he'd been punished with more paperwork as a result for said goofing off. Four, Elena had served his coffee stone-cold as payback for the salt he'd mixed into hers. Five, he hated paperwork _and _cold coffee.

He _could _call up Rude… but Tseng had confiscated his phone as well. And even if he did have it, he couldn't have done anything anyway thanks to the overdue bills he'd collected which had resulted in his connection being suspended 'for the time-being'.

The Turk glared at the pristine white pile of paper settled comfortably in his in-tray. Maybe the sheer power of his gaze would incinerate the lot, if he tried.

Five seconds…

Ten…

Thirty…

Nope, no such luck.

Left with no choice, he took a swig from the wintry coffee mug, grimaced and then settled down to get some work done. He dragged the first paper off the top of the stack and proceeded to fill it in. Except that his pen had inexplicably run out of ink at that very moment so he had to reach into his desk drawer and pick out a new one. Hm, the blue or the red? Blue reminded him too much of the dress Tifa had worn on their last date at the Mayfair club in Edge. Red it was, then.

He popped off the cap and noticed how nicely the nib gleamed in the light creeping through the blinds in his office. He tested it by doodling a picture of Elena on his notepad. Just for kicks, he added a pair of dripping fangs, one each at the corners of her mouth. Now that he thought about it… yeah. He inserted a tiny caricature of Tseng complete with loose black hair, a third eye, a white bridal dress and a facial expression befitting a terrified virgin about to be devoured by the Vampire Mistress in disguise. Serve them both right for crapping up his day.

Next he drew Tifa, exaggerated her chest and hair, clicked his tongue, erased them and realized that he'd now ended up with a miniature portrait of Yuffie Kisaragi.

Reno did try drawing Cloud but then noticed how he couldn't because of the image of a chocobo's posterior end that insisted on ruining his concentration. He clasped his hands together before offering a silent prayer for Tifa, Marlene and Denzel. May they not be plagued with nightmares of such an image whenever they had the misfortune to view the right side of his mako-addled blond head. Amen.

He had just finished his impression of Rude as a flower peddler in a wig and pink dress when the naturally bald man in context entered the room. Reno considered showing him the picture but then decided to hold onto it until he could shift through this workload first. He didn't need Rude's ire on top of Tseng and Elena's to _really _screw this day up.

"Reno," Rude stated the obvious with a slight adjustment to his ever-present shades. "How is your day going?"

"Ah, you know what they say. When the going gets tough, the tough get going and leave all the dirty work to their subordinates." He picked up a form and then noticed that he could barely register the writing font thanks to the doodles he'd etched between the lines. "Ah…"

"Then, I'm sorry to inform you that I have the task of adding further to your workload."

"Aw, damn it, Rude. Can't it wait?"

"Afraid not. He's very impatient."

"He?"

On cue, Rude stepped aside to allow the boy standing behind him to finally rush forward. Reno blinked twice in an attempt to register the eager young face bobbing up before him.

"That you, Denzel?"

"Apparently it's urgent. " Rude commented.

Denzel shot the taller Turk a glare. "It IS!"

"Woah there." Reno crouched down to the kid's level. Tifa had told him it worked when you wanted to get children to trust you. Since she was the one doing the baby-sitting, he couldn't disagree on that. "Mind telling me what's up?"

"Something's wrong with Tifa and I can't get to Cloud. I think there's a problem with the cell reception here."

Rude cleared his throat, obviously annoyed by the insult directed at ShinRa's latest venture into communications. "And where would Cloud be at this very moment?"

"Costa del Sol. He went there to deliver a package."

"According to the latest weather forecast update, Costa has been hit by a grade eight typhoon from the east."

"What?!" Denzel shrieked in dismay.

"Grade eight ain't that bad." Reno explained. "All you'd get is soaking wet and zapped by lightning if you're stupid so that probably means the lines are cut over there. Speaking of which, does Cloud swim?"

"But I have to get help! It's important!"

"Is Tifa sick? C'mon, she told me you were a smart kid. Take her to hospital."

"She's _not _sick! At least… not _here_." The boy swiped a hand slowly over his torso for emphasis as well as for lack of better words. "Anyway, she needs help. _Not _a hospital." He finished with renewed vigor.

A confused Reno tried to put this all into perspective. Tifa was 'sick' so the kid panics and comes running to him, _him _of all people, for help? Oh, and Strife just _happened _to be stuck in the middle of a freakin' thunderstorm just as all of this had transpired? Were the deities or whatever lurked in the recesses of the Lifestream finally smiling down upon him? This was almost too good to be true yet too sneaky a scheme for Tifa to have concocted…

"Hey! Tifa needs help!" Denzel poked him in the side as his anxiety grew.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

However, right before picking up his trusty Electro-Mag Rod and strutting out the door, he decided to leave behind a present for the protesting Rude. The latter's jaw dropped a few inches when Reno placed the remaining stack of papers into his open hands.

"Have fun, Rude." He added with a cheeky wink.

* * *

As soon as he entered the familiar coziness of the living-room tucked away at the back of Seventh Heaven, Reno was met with a pair of unyielding brown eyes. Marlene Wallace stood as tall as her six year old stature permitted and strong over the unconscious form of Tifa Lockhart.

Oh man… so this was serious…

"What happened exactly?" Reno asked, his eyes lingering on a photo set in a plain wooden frame on a shelf. It was the two of them, Denzel and Marlene, peering up at the camera from beneath a canopy. The boy was winking, one blue eye glowing in the dark, and they were both smiling. Denzel's eyes were darker today and his tone solemn as he explained how Tifa had been acting strange since she'd cut her finger this morning.

"Tifa losing her marbles just because of a cut? Doesn't sound like her to me."

"Me neither." Marlene agreed.

Denzel had paused in his narration when Reno had cut in with his opinion. In the brief moment when they'd had eye contact, the Turk had sensed that the boy hadn't entirely bared his soul when he'd asked him for help. Still, he had to take charge of the situation somehow.

"Right, so let's get her someplace comfortable."

Reno lifted the comatose barmaid in his arms, taking note of her pale cheeks and flushed lips. She looked beautiful, but she'd only ever looked beautiful in an earthly sense. This sickness, or whatever had infected her, had brought out a more ethereal beauty in her. It was painful for him to watch and he almost expected her to unravel to vapor as he held her closer her to him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the last time a woman had made him feel this sick inside.

Following his instincts, he navigated his way through various pieces of furniture and then upstairs to the bedroom, with Marlene and Denzel in tow. The door was already slightly ajar so all he had to do was give it a small push with his shoulder for it to open fully. Separate beds, Reno noted. Just like the last time he'd been here, one for her and one for Cloud. Heh, good thing _that _arrangement hadn't changed.

He set her down and examined her carefully. Underneath the black material of her shirt, he noted that her chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, characterized by her erratic breathing. Her skin felt warm to touch, like she was burning up with a fever. Apart from the usual signs, it didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps she'd overworked herself again or maybe a case of the flu. People got sick all the time, even the most heroic of the lot. His fingers brushed cold metal as he felt about her neck for a pulse, thus effectively ending his chain of thought. Reno glanced up from his watch and down at the silver chain entangled around his bony index finger.

"What's this?"

The kids had gathered around him, keeping an eye on his every move.

"Ah, the infamous necklace." He chuckled humorlessly as he ran his thumb over the black stone. "I told her to wear it on our next date."

And then things happened.

Before he could withdraw his hand from her, the sensations struck him harder than a well-aimed punch to the gut. Smoke, he smelt smoke. Something was burning, must be metal judging by the sounds of machinery crashing around him. He felt the ground below him rumble with a deafening groan. Human screams and shouts ricocheted off falling debris, and for some reason, his body was bruised and trembling from an ache. He recognized this type of pain. It was physical this time but that didn't mean it fuckin' hurt any less.

He'd felt this before. This scene wasn't new…

The mechanical hum of a helicopter above him… Tseng smiling grimly while he thanked him for getting the job done… a pair of green eyes behind his boss staring in horror at the brutal aftermath of the explosion…

Explosion, helicopter, Tseng… why did all of this seem so familiar?

Green eyes… that Cetra girl… Aerith…

Machinery crumbling, people screaming, blood filling his mouth after taking a hit to the jaw…

"TIFA!!"

She stood on the platform on the Sector 7 plate, screaming out to her comrades. A few feet away, a large red button loomed ominously in the presence of destruction. Tifa, younger and less jaded, was now aiming a sharp kick to his head. Adrenalin and reflexes springing into action, he managed to narrowly dodge her attack, along with the scattered stream of bullets sent his way from a heavyset man wielding a machine-gun.

"Tifa!" Reno called out again. He leapt out of the way just in time to avoid a strike from Cloud's Buster Sword and grabbed his on-off girlfriend by her shoulders. "What gives?!"

"Let go of me!" she yelled. "I'll make you pay for what you've done!"

"No, wait!"

A gloved fist smashing straight into his face cut off any further argument. Immediately, Reno found himself back in the bedroom, spitting out blood and sputum onto the clean wooden floor. He heard a cry and snapped his head up to see Denzel trying to restrain a fuming Tifa who had awoken. The rage in her eyes wasn't new. Not only that, it was misplaced. It belonged in the past with all her other skeletons.

"Tifa, wait…"

She screamed.

It was horrible. A piercing unholy sound. The next thing he knew, she had flung Denzel off her arm and was rushing at him with her fists aimed to kill. He braced himself for the impact, hand coiled around his rod if it had to come down to…

And just as suddenly as things had happened, they ceased.

Tifa would have considered herself lucky that Reno was able to catch her when she fell again. Too bad for him, she'd already lapsed into unconsciousness once more.


	4. Chapter 4

_What happened?_

Reno could barely level his stare on Tifa's limp form back on the bed.

_What happened to us?_

"It's that necklace, isn't it?" Denzel peered up at him. "The one that Yuffie gave her."

"Ninja brat shoved this crap on her? Tch, stupid cow…"

"I don't think she meant for this to happen."

"Whatever, never mind. She still here?"

"No. She went back to Wutai on Tuesday."

"Shit." The Turk massaged his temples with two long bony fingers, muttering harsher obscenities which he'd deemed too much for Denzel's young ears. "Eight hours by helicopter, maybe twelve if we get hit by that storm coming in from Costa. No point, not if by the time we make it Tifa…"

His breath caught in his throat and he felt of pang of something akin to fear. Given the appalling level of clarity of her… visions, how much did he have before she finally succumbed to this torment?

"Then, what?" Even the boy had sensed his worry. Was it that obvious? Reno had never been one for public displays of emotion, especially those of the tumultuous kind. A Turk had to maintain dignity _at all times_.

The incident at Sector 7 was a day he'd managed to put behind him like all good Shinra employees who wanted to go the distance. Seen one explosion, seen 'em all. It had always perturbed Tifa that he'd never regretted as much as he _should _have. One of the many factors he thought that would ensure that they never got any further with what they had. The woman was too sentimental for her own good and memory was a terribly reliable thing when it needn't have been so.

"Denzel?" Marlene had poked her head in at the door. "What happened? I heard noises."

"Tifa was awake but…"

"_Was_?"

"She wasn't the Tifa we know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Reno took charge, not about to let up his show of control. "That this could take longer than expected. But we'll do something. I'll make sure of that."

Marlene looked just as bewildered, large brown eyes drawing him unwillingly into the web of hurt and confusion spun in her mind. She had such tiny pale hands and they were shaking like strewn leaves from a litter cast about in the breeze.

"I wish Papa was here. He'd know what to do."

For a moment, Reno automatically assumed she meant Cloud. Then he remembered a bullet wound that had made sure his left shoulder throbbed for days on end even with the aid of a dozen painkillers.

"Barret?"

"Yeah, he'd know what to do. He always does."

He wondered if he should tell her about the days when her dear ol' Papa had gone about blowing up reactors, pummeling Shinra infantrymen into bloody pulps and no doubt placing more harmless civilians in danger than he had done all in the name of 'protecting the environment'. Then again, the kid was close to tears as it was and he never knew what to do with crying women.

Denzel had already turned to her with a desperate glint in his eyes. "We could call him, right? Modeoheim isn't as far off as Wutai – "

"Still too far." Reno growled. He doubted that that hulk of a human could possibly be of help in any situation where his brute strength wouldn't count. "We can't lose any more time. Tifa needs help _now_."

"Then what're _we _supposed to – "

"I'll do it."

"Do what?"

He sighed, a rough exhalation of sound. This kid and his questions. "It's the necklace that's the root of this problem, right? All I'll do is slip it on myself and get her out of whatever she's in before the crap hits the fan."

"You'd do that for her?"

Someday, Reno had a feeling he'd look back on this very moment and wonder what in the Planet's name had possessed him to take a risk without taking the payoff into consideration. Life was expendable as long as you could make it _extendable _as well.

"'Course I would."

Without further ado, he slid into the space on the bed beside his former foe, above the sheets. Recalling the last time he'd touched the necklace, he decided that 'slipping it on' would indeed pose a challenge. But… all he had to do was touch it and then he'd be with, hopefully in a less violent scene, somewhere where she was calmer of thought. _Right_, and that was as highly possible as his next promotion…

Shaking off the sarcasm and gritting his teeth, Reno steeled himself for a less-than-rosy reality.

"You owe me one big time, babe."

* * *

Oh yes, Tifa would definitely have to find some way to make up for this. A tall bottle of the best damn liquor she could dig up would do, preferably one of the stronger brands, the ones out of his price range. That would compensate him for the splitting migraine thundering about his skull at the moment…

And speaking of moments, which one from their checkered pasts might he be intruding on…

Groaning, he rolled onto his back. The sun was blazing away above him, searing him right through the material of his white nylon shirt. Summer, perhaps. Either that or the rumors about global warming were true. Global warning, caused by pollution, in turn caused by Shinra, in fact why not blame everything from jilted brides to broken shoelaces on Shinra since it was so convenient. Rotten pile of stinkers, they were. Wait a minute, oh yeah, he was one of them.

Come to think of it, there was an odor hanging about him. Hadn't he noticed before or was it the mako exposure that had fried his olfactory nerves?

Wait a minute, was that…?

A cold wet snout nudged him on the top of his head. With a startled yelp, Reno was immediately on his feet and the pig ran off squealing in fright. A pig-sty of all the fucking places in the world. Not a reactor or a battle-ground or an underground cavern but a fucking pig-sty. Sheesh, if his luck kept up…

"Who're you?"

The sharp low voice belonged to a little girl sitting on a white fence with her legs looped around the lower plank and her arms resting on the top. She couldn't have been more than about Denzel's age. Nine or ten, maybe? Her long dark brown hair hung loose around her creamy shoulders and her eyes glowed as they caught the light. The slight upward twitch of her lips struck him as oddly familiar.

"You can call me 'Red'."

"Hmph, suits you."

He ran a hand through his shocking red locks, smirking with satisfaction. "Naturally. And what do I call you? Brownie?"

"It's Tifa."

"Ah," His hand paused midway through the back of his scalp. "Figures."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You're weird."

Tifa's eyes roved over his lanky bruised figure. They paused at the cracked goggles on his head. "Are you a pilot?"

"I can fly a helicopter."

"Johnny wants to learn how to fly one. He says he's sick of the toys he gets because they don't stay up in the air for long and they always crash anyway."

Reno made his way to the fence, wincing slightly at the pinpricks of pain jabbing the small of his back. "And who might Johnny be, if I may ask?"

She shimmied over to the other side. Still as wary as ever. "Johnny's my friend."

The defensiveness with which she spat out 'my friend' made him smile. Same ol' protective Tifa.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Just curious is all I am. I'm new here."

"Monsters don't always look like monsters."

"Tell me about it. Where'd you hear that?"

"My father."

"Sounds like a smart guy to me."

Tifa snorted derisively. So much for the PR lessons he'd been forced to take as part of his initial training. Fifty hours of being cooped up in a stifling lecture hall amounted to situations like these.

"So, Tifa." He decided to pursue a different tack. "D'you have other friends here?"

"…"

"You don't? Aw, that's too – "

"Yes, I _do_. But I'm not going to tell _you _about them."

"Okay, that's cool. You don't have to. I wouldn't want you to bore me with your dull little friends anyway."

Bingo. That sure did the trick if the widening blush of rage staining her cheeks was anything to go by. Leave it to him to know which of her buttons to push, no matter what age and time they were in.

"For your information, _Red_, my friends are pretty cool. Which reminds me, where are yours?"

"I don't have any." He replied, sparing a fond thought for Rude and Elena.

"So that makes you the loser instead."

"Nah, I'm too cool by myself already. Add some more to this and you could catch hypothermia quicker than your stubby legs could run around that barn over there."

"What's hyper… whatever you said it was?"

"It's when your core body temperature drops below the normal level which would be – " Reno stopped himself. He was beginning to sound like Tseng.

"Don't you even have a job?"

"Just wandering about. Yeah, I'm a wanderer, a vagabond."

He quite liked the sound of that.

"My father calls people like you a waste of space."

"That so? Doesn't seem fair to me."

"How come?"

"Well… it's like you hate someone for how he looks. If he's got a scruffy suit on and his shoes are filled with holes, you'd probably think he had nothing better to do than roam around begging for a bite to eat, right? If you see someone stumbling about drunk, you'd think that he was just messing around on purpose, right?"

"I guess so."

"It's not all it seems, kid. Nothing is. There's always something deeper. Maybe the guy with the holey shoes is genuinely down on his luck. Maybe the drunk guy was having a bad day and decided to treat his problems the only way he knew how. You get my drift, Tifa?"

"So if someone looks small, weak and scared on the outside… doesn't mean they're really like that?"

"Gee," He scratched at his chin, as if her words had sent him into deep thought. "I think _you _look pretty small, weak and scared on the outside. What about you?"

She appeared surprised, taken aback at his observation.

"Or is just me?"

"It's just you." Her fingers coiled around the hem of her skirt. "I'm not scared of anything like Cloud is. He hid inside his mother's shed when there was a thunderstorm and he backs off whenever he sees Tony coming along with his gun. Not a real one, a _pretend_ one."

Pah, he always knew that Strife was a pansy deep down beneath that mako conditioning and SOLDIER First Class memory mix-up bullshit. Still, Tifa did sound particularly vindictive. Maybe this whole conundrum had everything to do with this particular shard of remembrance that he was invading. Who would've thought…

"But we're all scared of _something_, Tifa. Can't lie 'bout that."

"I'm not. Even if I did get scared, I'd work hard to become stronger so that I don't have to be scared anymore."

Strong words from someone hiding grazed knees under her skirt. The perfectionist side of the Tifa he dated usually showed up whenever she was stressed. When he'd shown up late for a date at a pub, she'd driven the staff just short of crazy when she insisted on walking about and polishing the brass fittings to keep her hands busy.

"Good way to go about life, kid. Not the easiest way but I'm sure your mother's proud of you… Tifa?"

Her eyes were welling with tears. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud as well.

"What? What happ – "

She smacked his hand away and took off, long brown hair streaming behind her like a velvet veil.

"Tifa!"

He may have been blessed with long legs and incredible speed but the girl knew places that he didn't. She dodged when he reached, dived when he lunged until she ducked into a hedge and completely disappeared from view. Reno rushed through the forest glade, scrabbling frantically about for any tracks she could have left uncovered. A hair-clip caught in a branch, footprints in the dirt, anything.

A mild drizzle forced him to cease his search.

"Damn it."


	5. Chapter 5

As the drizzle thickened to a shower, Reno felt his vision blur to a stream of muddy colors. Brown, grey and splashes of forest green were all he could make out, the coolness of the water drenching him in a pleasant embrace. By habit, the Turk was a creature accustomed to the cold. His earliest memories were of lying in the damp streets of Midgar with his mouth wide open to catch a few raindrops falling from the murky grey skies. Those days had been rare as storms, brief intervals of peace in turbulent times. The slums always looked prettier when it was washed clean as he'd told Tifa every time they passed by the street he'd grown up in…

Tifa… _Tifa!_...

Reno swiped his eyes clear of moisture and resumed his search for his enigmatic – more so than usual – girlfriend. Nibelheim, real or imagined, was one hell of a scary place if you happened to be a bona-fide city slicker. And damned proud of it!

His chest swelling with pride, Reno took one extra large step forward all for the sake of…

Landing face-first in a pot-hole.

Not that Reno had anything against pot-holes. He drove through them all the time, whenever it rained during his routine patrols anyway. However, when coupled with the fact that he was on a mission of great importance and supposed to be exuding an air of authority befitting an honorary member of Shinra's elite, gagging on a mouthful of muddy water wasn't his idea of perfect heroism. Shiva, he was turning into Elena here.

After cursing a blue streak and pulling himself out of his temporary predicament, he continued onwards along the rough country path, occasionally wringing his bangs free of any excess water. The only sounds in the air were the splashes made by raindrops extinguished on solid rocks and mossy tree barks, permeated only by the numbing chill of the surrounding mountain mist. It wouldn't have surprised him if he were to discover his skin turning a pallid shade of blue to match the frostbite that was surely about to afflict him. He'd heard many a tale about SOLDIERs who'd lost toes, fingers and noses after venturing too long into such areas. Damn it if he were to succumb to that, he grimaced, rubbing the tip of his thumb against his own nostril just to make sure.

By and by, the path began to slope downwards, taking him into a more inhabited part of the tiny hamlet. He counted one, two, three cottages with thatched roofs and white walls, just like in the picture books. If it weren't for the glowing patches of light in each frosted window, he would have missed them altogether, no thanks to the blinding mist. Reno held out his right hand in front of him, palm spread out and fingers flexing to his whim. He could barely make out its outline. Some place _this _was. What the hell had happened to all the flowers and flowing streams he'd heard of?

_Shinra_.

Of course. Mako pollution, draining energy reserves, environmental degradation, and all those newspaper clippings the company'd kept cut out for 'censorship' purposes. Those stories Tifa had told him? They were fairytales, nymph-like and ethereal, belonging to a place of warm childhood dreams. The Nibelheim she'd known and loved had been destroyed to make way for one man's full-blown ego.

"_You've… quite a way with words, Tifa."_

And then she would look up at him through that veil of soft dark hair, replying in a voice as soft as spider-silk.

"_Spun from the threads of my mother's stories. It's a gift."_

Reno wouldn't know about mothers. He'd never known one to call his own.

But time was ticking away. He was wet, freezing and alone in a place that reminded him most uncomfortably of the ripples spread by the sins of the tyrant he'd once worked for. Fear wasn't a feeling which struck him too often in his adult years. At times, he wondered if this was nothing but an after-effect of a childhood spent in the midst of fights for food scraps and gang wars created to pass copious amounts of time. As an adult, hard pressed into the less-than-glamorous life of Shinra's bodyguards, he'd simply never had the inclination to reveal any weaknesses, real or imagined.

However, with Tifa, to reveal or not was out of the question altogether.

He'd run into the barmaid, literally and otherwise, many a time on a routine patrol of the city before the impulse had flared within him. He hadn't the slightest clue on what possessed him to ask Tifa Lockhart out for lunch on a cold spring day in early March but now that he looked back on it, he didn't regret it.

Not the slightest bit.

* * *

It had been a blessedly quiet day in Midgar, one which had mostly passed on unnoticed by him. The pale spring sunlight contrasted nicely with the slight chill in the air. 'Pretty!' Elena had exclaimed earlier in the morning as she'd drawn the blinds open in the cramped grey cubicle he shared with Rude. Bright lights didn't normally suit Turks well at all, what with being habitual creatures of the shadows. Rude had winced and tugged his shades higher up the bridge of his nose whilst their petite blonde compatriot had thrilled on and on about the new green buds on the trees and the melting snow dripping down from the window-sills.

That was when the first twinge in his long bony fingers descended, compelling him to act on a long-repressed impulse, free as the fresh spring breeze.

While Elena had dreamed out loud and Rude had glowered in the dark, Reno was stepping into the light of a new day with his heart lighter than it had ever been.

He had walked through a street, taken twists and turns that were fast becoming familiar as the scars on his face until he arrived at a dull dingy little bar tucked into the back-alleys of Edge. The twinges electrifying the very whites of his bones into hot-white shades compelled him to sweep through the doors, across the empty foyer, past a gaping Cloud Strife on his way to work, past the dusty silk flowers on the counter-top, past the bottles glinting and gleaming in the background, until he was facing her wide eyes open in wonder.

"How about lunch?"

The dark coffee eyelashes fluttered, a hint of a cherry blush forming on the apples of her cheeks. Lips in the palest strawberry pink parted, a question forming, and then closing for fear of tripping their way through words.

Heartbeats flared, pulses rushed, eyes locked, sea green and earth brown.

"… How?" she ventured, careful not to let anything spill.

He walked over to the static-coated silk flowers and thumbed a petal roughly. Grey powder coated his skin and Strife's eyes were burning holes through his back. His palms were flushed from the secrets coursing through him but nothing was supposed to come easy, especially with the pasts they'd both put paid to with blood and rain, holy or not. For a second, his chest smarted from the impact.

"How?" she repeated with more color in her voice. "How did _this _come about?"

He didn't know. Really, he didn't.

But honestly, did either of them _have _to know?

"Ya know, it's springtime. 'Bout time you got some real flowers in here…"

She appeared closer by his side, her arms folded and fingers pinching at the crooks of her elbows. There was a pleasant scent in the air, something he wasn't familiar with. Reno had got so used to the stench of pollution and depravity in the slums that he'd forgotten how anything so pure and true could smell like. Of course, flowers never grew in Midgar. Just like ambitions, they were.

"Those were a gift from a customer, Reno. What would he think if I were to get rid of them?"

He breathed in her scent, careful to let it sink into his lungs. "It's a new year. Everyone could use a change sometime. Dunno where you're gonna get those flowers though…"

"I know a place."

"You do?"

"I could take you there if you like."

Reno wondered if he had indeed just heard the sound of Strife's jaw hitting the floor.

"So I guess that means no lunch date then?"

He'd taken her wry little smile as a definite 'Not today'.

* * *

Back in Nibelheim, Reno ignored the cold wall behind him as he slid down against it, remembering the day she'd took him to the tiny alcove hidden at the back of an infamous church in the heart of the slums. It was a well-guarded secret amongst Avalanche members and had begun with a small token of appreciation for two fallen friends. Clusters of delicate pink carnations and peonies stood in line with tall aquiline roses and crocuses under a patch of warm sunlight. In the midst of the blossoms stood two long wooden staves, a crimson red ribbon tied around each.

"_One's for Aerith and this one here is for – "_

"_Zack."_

Of course he still remembered that fateful day on the desert outskirts of Midgar. Tseng had never managed to forgive himself for being too late and Cissnei had resigned from active duty soon afterwards. Perhaps, in a way, it was their fault that Cloud had become the troubled soul he was. After all, he'd considered Fair as his best friend, a brother in arms, and then had had to witness the ever-shining SOLDIER star crash to the ground in a blood-strewn blaze of glory.

Reno sighed. Everything was relative in the aftermath.

In due time, the sheets of rain began to shrink into thin needles of water. Tifa had always been one for hiding whether it was beneath the shadows of Seventh Heaven or behind that shy smile of hers. Now that the mist seemed to be clearing as well, he might stand a chance of finding her at last. Standing up, he straightened immediately at the sound of heavy footsteps splashing through nearby puddles. Two elderly hags with gnarled limbs and snow-white hair gingerly picked their way through the mud on their way past him, muttering curses beneath their breaths as Reno held his own.

Fortunately for him, the only thing the duo deemed worthy of bestowing on a red-haired stranger in outlandish garb was a scrutinizing glance. They continued on with their conversation as the Turk eavesdropped on their whispers without them noticing.

"Absolutely tragic! And to think of how young she was too…"

"Yes, yes. Such a happy young child she was when she arrived here as well…"

Heart hammering like a drum in his chest, Reno slunk closer to their trailing shadows, silently pressing on for more details. If the kid in question was indeed Tifa, what had happened? Was she sick? Hurt? Alive?

He braced himself, ears at the alert.

"How old did you say she was, Fernelia?"

"Twenty-six, I think. She was eighteen when she married, as I recall."

Twenty-six? Married? Unless he'd gotten his facts mixed up, Reno was sure that they'd got the wrong person. Or at least, just not the one he had in mind. But then, he pondered out of curiosity, who else did he know that fit the profile? A bell was chiming faintly at the back of his mind but he still couldn't place a name or face on the evidence presented…

"She was a nice young lady, Alysia Lockhart. She'll be sorely missed, no doubts about it."

Lockhart? Wait a sec…

"Doesn't she have… didn't she leave a child behind as well?"

"Yes, yes, her name is Tifa. She usually comes by to play with my grandson."

The tears welling up in those dark eyes suddenly made sense to him. He didn't have to worry about Tifa not being alive but he would somehow have to make sure that she was well. And if instinct served him well today, he knew just where to find her.


End file.
